For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 06

We are allowed to dress in the clothes we arrived in, this time Tim giving both of us matching black lace panties in place of what we had left home with. Another trip down the elevator, into the parking garage and into his truck. Tim, ever his usual mysterious self, doesn't seem anxious to tell us where we're going. We drive in silence for several moments, getting on the highway, heading uptown.

"Doing alright, Anne?" Tim finally asks.

"Uh-huh," she answers, her voice more subdued than I'm used to.

"You sure? If you're not, I'll call our arrangement complete, no questions asked."

"No, no, I'm okay," she says quickly. "Just a little...on edge..."

"On edge nervous, or on edge 'I want to finish what we started in the room?'"

"Both, I guess." If she's anything like me, her nerves are contributing to her sexual desire.

"We'll see if we can make you feel better on both accounts. Just have patience. I think Karen would have fucked me in the middle of the hotel lobby before I finally let her cum for the first time. She came so hard, I thought she had blacked out. She recovered just fine, though."

The truck slows as Tim takes the next exit. We are in a nice section of town, boutiques and small shops clustered together in little village centers lining the thoroughfare. We turn into the drive of one of these buildings and park in front of a neat storefront, curtains drawn in the windows, lights still glowing from behind the drapes. The wooden sign mounted above the overhang pronounces this to be the home of "Whispers". Anne and I look at each other as Tim exists his side, then opens the passenger door so we may join him. We follow him to the door, which, despite the appearance of this establishment appearing closed at this time of the evening, is unlocked. Anne and I step into a richly appointed clothing store, the sound of classical music playing in the background. A faint scent of lavender hangs in the heavy warmth of our surroundings. A quick glance of the racks and shelves reveals what appears to be lingerie, very nice lingerie.

A woman I guess to be in her fifties, Anne's height, but much plumper and more matronly, comes bustling around a rack of lacy black corsets. Her black skirt, frilly white blouse and buttoned collar scream early librarian. She sweeps by Anne and myself and heads straight for the now closing door. "You must be Tim," she says as she secures the deadbolt. He nods and extends his hand in greeting. "Lacey Beauchemin, welcome to Whispers" she announces as she takes his hand and quickly shakes it. "I'm the owner." I stifle a giggle at the absurdity of the woman's name given her choice of wares.

"Are these yours?" she says in a perky, shopclerk-kind of way, gesturing towards Anne and myself.

"For the weekend, at least."

She looks at us briefly as if we were prospective merchandise, then calls out. "Chris! Out here now!"

A young man emerges from a doorway near the back of the store, well-built, dark haired, over six feet tall. Behind him follows a thin woman my own height, chestnut hair cascading down to the small of her back. The man is dressed in black slacks and a white turtleneck, while the woman is dressed much as Lacey is, black skirt and white blouse, her small breasts barely pushing the shirt away from her chest at all. Black on white must be the store's uniform.

"I think I have everything you asked to look at," Lacey tells Tim. "Care for a glass of wine while you view the selections?" She is directing her attention to him, pointedly ignoring Anne and myself.

"Please," Tim replies. "A Chardonnay, if you have it."

"I most certainly do! Chris, get the gentleman a drink. If you will all follow me..." Lacey finally looks at Anne and I again as she moves to the back of the store. Tim motions for us to follow, and we take a path through racks of corsets, teddies, peignoirs and other unidentifiable items to a clearing towards the rear. It is an open area with a small dais in the middle, surrounded by wall-length mirrors on three sides. We all step into the open space, Chris coming soon after with a glass for Tim. The woman stands off to the side, a little ill-at-ease, it seems.

"Tim, have a seat over there while we show you what you asked for," Lacey says, gesturing to a padded straightback chair off to the side. Chris, wine delivered, goes to the other side and stands, seeming to wait for further direction. The older woman turns to us. "Remove your clothes."

We both hesitate for just a moment, Anne speaking first. "Is there a dressing room we can use, Lacey?"

The woman, still looking for all the world like the middle age secretary of a bank executive, walks slowly to where Anne is standing and faces her. She gently but firmly takes my friend's chin in her right hand and squeezes ever so slightly as she leans in to just inches from her face. Anne's eyes widen in surprise, but she does not attempt to move away.

"If you were mine, you would only address me by my first name once," the older woman says in a very soft but menacing voice. "I would enjoy ensuring you would never use it again. But you are not mine, so I will restrain myself. However, this is my establishment, so you and your friend here will address me as ma'am, or Mrs. Beauchemin, if it is absolutely necessary you speak to me. Do you understand?"

Anne, her chin still firmly in Mrs. Beauchemin's grip, does her best to nod and say, "yes, ma'am."

The older woman smiles and takes her hand away, then takes a step back. She folds her arms before her ample bosom and in a voice more appropriate for announcing our presence to the bank manager says, "now, get naked."

Anne and I both nervously look at Chris and the young woman before exchanging glances with each other. I look to Tim, hoping he will intervene, but a patient smile is all I get. I realize Tim will not be coming to our rescue and begin disrobing, Anne taking her cue from me. In moments our clothes are on the floor, and we completely naked in front of three strangers. Mrs. Beauchemin has us step away from our garments and begins to circle, examining us.

"Quite an ass on this one," she says as the smack of a hand against skin comes from beside me. I feel the second smack on my own cheek as I hear it. "This one isn't bad either. Tighter, certainly, and more appealing to look at, but many men do prefer the cushion on Miss Mouth here when they are trying to get that last inch in..."

She is now in front of us, eying us up and down. "Two very different sets of tits, but both will have their appreciative audience." Her hand gently closes around my right breast and squeezes several times, not painfully, as if testing them—and myself—for resistance. She turns her attention to Anne's boob and squeezes, then moves to her nipple and pinches it slightly. Anne gasps, but doesn't move. The older woman smiles. "Either she's learning, and I doubt that, or she likes it," she says as she looks my friend in the eye. Anne diverts her gaze to the floor. The woman smiles again, then steps back.

"A fan of the carpeted foyer, eh Tim?" she says as she looks between our legs with a critical eye. "Deep shag and a tight weave, I see.

"I prefer some, but not a lot," Tim admits. "Just haven't decided if I want to remodel the shag."

"I have a wonderful way of taking it down to something manageable, if you would like me to," she tells him with a smile on her face.

"Perhaps some other time. I'm still kinda amused by that natural look."

"I understand. May I begin showing you the items you are interested in?" Tim nods his head, and the woman calls out to the man standing on the other side of the viewing area. "Chris—go get the collars I selected!" He hurries off through the door he and the woman had come in before. "Julia here is in training," she says to Tim as some sort of explanation for an unasked question. He just smiles and nods, then raises his glass to her. She smiles briefly at him, then resumes her stern expression. Chris hurries back, carrying several thick strands of leather. He holds them out to the older woman, who snatches one from his hands and moves to where Tim is sitting. "The finest grade leather," he tells him as she hands him the length, "very supple. The edges are rolled to prevent chafing from extended wear." Tim nods, then hands it back to her. She moves behind Anne. "On your knees, big tits." My friend does not hesitate, slowly dropping to her knees, her hands clasped before her. The woman works quickly and loops the collar around her neck, quickly buckling it and moving her hair away from the left side of her neck to show the piece to Tim.

"Very pretty," he tells her.

She smiles and snatches another length from Chris' hand. "Kneel, tight ass." I assume the position as Anne and feel the length roughly wrapped around my neck and fastened, the hair pushed away to display the piece.

"Very nice, indeed. "Yes, I'll take them both."

"Very good, sir! And I assume you will want the matching leads, as well?"

"I suppose I should..."

She smiles again, and turns her attention to the young man standing in front of us, his eyes traveling over our bodies. "The restraints!" Chris quickly moves away and returns with leather cuffs, three pair. Mrs. Beauchemin grabs them from him and moves to where Tim is sitting. "Again, excellent leather work on these, rolled edges to prevent chafing or cutting. The stainless steel D-rings are the highest quality, guaranteed not to break under any strain the human body can put them under." He examines a pair and hands them back with a nod. "Shall I demonstrate them for you?"

Tim waves his glass casually. "Please."

She turns on the young man standing beside us. "You heard him! All of your clothes off—now!" I am a little shocked to see him comply so quickly, shirt and shoes are gone in an instant, followed by pants and underwear. Our own situation is temporarily forgotten as we get a chance to ogle this handsome young man. He is very pleasing to look at—muscular legs topped by a washboard stomach and chest with what I guess to be a 7" cock bobbing over a large set of shaven balls.

"Hard again?" the older woman sighs. "You ARE an un-neutered dog, aren't you? You can't have those two. They're not yours. You do remember what happened when you came without permission this afternoon, right? You don't want that to happen again?" Chris nods vigorously, but looks at the floor. Mrs. Beauchemin steps behind him and grabs his left wrist, bringing it behind his back to buckle a cuff on it. She repeats the process with his right, then snaps the two together and turns him so Tim may see the cuffs in action, his hands resting just above a beautiful ass. "You can use any variety of fastening devices with these," she tells Tim. Anything from keeping the wrists together to keeping them apart as far as his arms will stretch!"

Mrs. Beauchemin takes the other two sets of cuffs from where she had set them down and gives them to Julia. "Can you put these on the two 'ladies' here," she says in a sweet matronly voice as she gestures towards us, "just like I showed you earlier, honey?"

Julia's expression does not change. "Yes ma'am," she tells her, and grabs my left bicep, pulling it towards her none too gently. I get the hint and give her my wrist, which is quickly encased in leather. She repeats the process with my right and attaches the two together, leaving my hands firmly secured behind my back, my breasts pushed out in front of me. Anne gets the same treatment, Julia grabbing her like she is putting her under arrest, and we both continue to kneel, our calves beneath us and our asses cradled by our feet.

"Julia honey, would you be a dear and go get me those spreader bars I set out earlier?" The younger woman disappears, then returns a short time later holding 3 black poles, leather restraints dangling from their ends. The older woman takes one and hands it to Tim. "Fully adjustable. Perfect for opening the object of your desire as wide as you want, and keeping them there for your viewing—or any other—pleasure.

He examines it briefly and hands it back. "If I may demonstrate," the woman tells him, and turns before he can answer. She again walks over the nude man in front of us. "Kneel, like I taught you earlier." He sinks to his knees to the side of the raised area in the center of the floor, then puts his chest and head on the carpeted surface in front of him. I can make out the tip of his cock dangling beneath him, peeking out from between his thighs.

Mrs. Beauchemin moves behind him, kicking his ankles away from each other until she is satisfied. She rests on one knee, her skirt never riding more than halfway up her thigh, and quickly attaches one cuff around an ankle, then attaches the other. The older woman stands and surveys her work.

"Put your legs together!" The young man tries to move his ankles back, but the spreader does its job. He makes a show of trying, then gives up. "Safe and secure!" she beams. Tim just smiles and nods.

"Julia dear, could you put the others on these two?" The young woman steps in front of Anne and I and looks down on us with barely disguised disdain. It is a humbling feeling to be looked down upon by someone so much younger than myself...

"May I choose the position, ma'am?"

"Of course, dear."

"On your asses!" Anne and I struggle to our feet to rearrange ourselves, our hands cuffed uselessly behind us. We sink to the floor as ungracefully as we rose, both of us choosing to keep our thighs together, knees bent, as we sit.

Julia stands in front of Anne first this time and smiles at her attempt at modesty as she looks down on the nude woman. The younger woman kneels as Mrs. Beauchemin did, one knee delicately balanced on the floor at Anne's feet. She grabs her left ankle and pulls it roughly to the side, opening her up and almost causing her to become unbalanced and fall over in the process. Anne catches herself, and the young woman grabs the right ankle and repeats the process.

"It's usually better to spread them both at the same time, dear. That way they don't fall over like topheavy bowling pins," Mrs. Beauchemin offers. "Especially that one. With all that weight up top, she might bounce for a bit."

Julia murmurs a "yes, ma'am" and gets to work, attaching one cuff then the other. In moments, Anne's heels and butt form a perfect tripod. The young woman takes a moment to examine my friend, eyes lingering in her open crotch, before rising and moving to me. Again she kneels, this time firmly grasping both of my ankles and pulling them apart simultaneously. The movement, although somewhat rough, does have the desired effect of leaving me balanced. She works quickly, placing my right ankle over Anne's left, and I am soon open to her gaze.

And to Chris'. I can see his head lays on the platform facing us, his eyes taking us in.

"May I suggest leaving a demonstration of the ropes you requested until later? " the older woman coos. Tim nods his agreement. "Excellent. In that case, I believe you wished to outfit these ladies with prosthetics? " Prosthetics? What are prosthetics? Like a leg, or an arm?

"It might help to keep them entertained," he offers.

"Indeed they will," she agrees. "Julia, would you mind showing us what they look like?"

Julia blushes slightly and seems to lose juts a bit of her haughtiness. "Yes ma'am, right away." She slips by, a sideways glance cast at Anne and I as she goes into the side room. "Julia is in training," she tells Tim by way of explanation. He just smiles and nods.

The young woman is gone about five minutes, Mrs. Beauchemin taking the time to study our restraints, making a show of checking our spreaders, gently kicking our feet aside as if we have figured out how to remove ourselves from the cuffs while she was not looking. At one point she firmly wedges the toe of her low heel into my cleft, snorting contemptuously when she withdraws it to see a slight sheen of moisture on the polished leather.

She suddenly looks up expectantly from her inspections, and Julia sweeps by us, completely nude save for a leather harness about her midsection, a triangular patch of leather neatly covering her sex. She is as slight as I imagined her to be, very pale unblemished skin, her breasts barely more than bumps on her chest, her ass very firm, almost muscular. She is carrying a small leather-bound case in her hand that she gives to Mrs. Bauchemin as she approaches. "Wonderful, dear, thank you!" she tells the leather-girded woman, then turns to Tim. "These are not the least expensive pieces you will ever find, but certainly worth every penny!" With a flourish, she casually puts the case on the flat spot formed by Chris' back, making it seem as if he is just part of the décor. The older woman flips open the top and pulls out a very realistic flesh-colored dildo, complete with a set of testicles dangling loosely underneath it. She holds it out for Tim to view, but instead of taking it from her, he just leans in, examines it, then sits back and nods. "These can be made to any specification you wish," she tells him. "Long, skinny, thick, curved up, curved down—if I may be so forward, we can even take a mold of yours and make an exact duplicate!"

"Will it get hard at inconvenient times like mine does?" he jokes.

"It never gets soft!" She turns to Julia and begins to tug at her crotch. The young woman holds her ground, seeming to understand exactly what to expect. The older woman's position blocks me from seeing exactly what she is doing, but after a moment, she finishes and steps away. The dildo juts out obscenely from the young woman, securely held in place by the harness. "This particular set comes with three attachments—" I hear this and my mind somehow conjures image of vacuum cleaner sales. "—this one, a long, thin one, for very tight orifices, a short fat one for filling up for favorite one, and a large fat one for REALLY filling up that adventurous partner. We can even scale your likeness for all three sizes. The harness makes changing out your choice a snap, does a wonderful job of keeping things in place, and is constructed to give the wearer maximum pleasure—the front piece is lined to prevent chafing, and has a strategically placed nub for making that little love button sing! Julia, could you demonstrate, please?" I have a feeling either Anne or I are about to get fucked in a most un-gentle manner by this icewoman.

Instead, she moves the open case from the man's back and puts it on the riser he is resting on. The young woman takes a small bottle from the case, steps behind him and unceremoniously squirts some of the contents of the bottle between his upturned cheeks. She begins to push her finger into his anus, sawing in and out until she is satisfied. She withdraws her finger, positions herself behind him, grabs the faux-cock swinging in front of her and guides it into his asshole. His eyes close tight and his expression turns to one of discomfort as she grasps his hips and begins to push, teeth clenched as she bottoms out against his ass and withdraws. She wastes no time in starting her next downstroke, Chris' expression already lightening a bit, muscles no longer bulging along his jaw. Julia's hand leaves his hip and moves below him, grasping the cock swinging freely beneath him.

"He's not close to coming, is he dear?" Mrs. Beauchemin asks, sounding as if she is inquiring as to whether he would like a second helping of dessert.

"No, I don't think so, ma'am," the younger woman replies, hand stroking slowly down his length.

"Good, good, you should know best," the older woman tells her. "Bring him to the edge, but do not let him go off. He won't be coming again tonight." The besieged man groans. I'm unsure if it's from the anal assault, or from the news he just received.